


tides will bring me back to you

by matty_murdock



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, F/M, i'm bellarke trash, sorry about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3839911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matty_murdock/pseuds/matty_murdock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Bellamy saw her, she was standing just inside her hospital room, hand holding onto the door frame and eyes burning into the vending machine by the front desk. Bellarke AU: Bellamy and Clarke meet in a hospital</p>
            </blockquote>





	tides will bring me back to you

**Author's Note:**

> okay okay okay, i know i shouldn't be publishing a new story as i have two to write  
> but i couldn't help it  
> and i know, i know, i know that i need to update them, but a lot of stuff has been happening recently and i just really can't find the motivation or time to write them  
> title of this is from 'deathbeds' by bring me the horizon  
> anyway, enjoy this!

The first time Bellamy saw her, she was standing just inside her hospital room, hand holding onto the door frame and eyes burning into the vending machine by the front desk. Over her hospital gown was a dark red hoodie and on her feet, a pair of Doctor Who socks. It was nearly three in the morning and the night receptionist left moments ago to get some more coffee. Bellamy was also standing just inside his hospital room, eyes also burning into the vending machine.

It was a known fact that hospital food sucks, but at Ark Memorial, it was even worse then what’s depicted. Bellamy swore that he once found a worm in his soup. Ever since that day, he’d been dumping his daily food out of his window and when the night staff leave the front desk to get some more coffee, he’d sneak over to the vending machine and buy his dinner from there. 

He was only in the hospital for a gun wound, nothing serious- nothing life threatening. Bellamy mostly spent his days alone, reading a history book. On the rare occasion Octavia would visit, not because she didn’t care, but she had a busy life herself. She and Lincoln were due a baby boy in six months and they spent most of their time preparing for that. Plus, Octavia wanted to graduate college before she had her child and with only a few weeks left, she spent most of her time either online shopping for baby equipment or studying for her upcoming exams.

Bellamy would be lying to say he didn’t miss her because he really did. But he understood just how much stress she was under. 

Everything changed when she came though. It was a few weeks ago, Bellamy was reading his favourite history book of all time when suddenly he heard screaming and crying coming from outside his room. Curiosity over took him and he went searching for the person making that noise. The first thing he saw was a tall man carrying a small blonde girl and a woman following behind holding what seemed to be a oxygen tank. Tubes came off the machine and seemed to disappear into the buddle of mess which was the blonde girl. 

She reminded him of a princess. The type he used to read about to Octavia for her to fall asleep to. 

He sunk back into the shadows and watched as the doctors carefully placed her onto a stretcher and took her away, a nurse grabbing the attached oxygen tank away from what must be her mother. He heard whispering after that, the words ‘I’m going to lose my baby girl’ and ‘she can’t die, not now’ were repeated before Bellamy moved back to his room. 

The next time he briefly saw her, she was in a wheel chair, fast asleep, and being wheeled into the room opposite his. The door shut behind her, blocking his view.

He hadn’t seen her in day and yet there she was, standing inside her hospital room. The oxygen tank was behind her and her free hand was wrapped around the handle. This was the first time Bellamy had properly seen her. Her blonde hair hung in waves around her face and her eyes were a deep blue that the longer he stared in them, he felt like he was drowning. Her skin was so pale that if he didn’t see her hand on the doorframe moving, he would have thought she was dead. Her eyes flickered up to him and she smirked. A challenge.

Bellamy looked over to the vending machine; he had wiped out most of its contents this morning when Octavia showed up and it wasn’t due a refill till tomorrow. The only thing that was in it was a packet of crisps. Her blue eyes flickered between him and the vending machine, before she suddenly launched herself forward. Being a cop meant that Bellamy had fast reflexes and it took no longer than a millisecond for him to react.

He reached the vending machine first and snagged up the packet of crisps. When he turned round, she was standing behind him, hands pressed against her knees, breathing deep and fast. The oxygen tank discarded on the floor. That’s when he noticed the tubes coming off it were attached to her nose. She looked up at him, still bent over, still trying to catch her breath. Slowly, she straightened up.

“You’ve won this round, but you sure as hell aren’t winning it next round,” the blonde grabbed the handle of the oxygen tank and lifted it up. “Stupid thing getting stuck on a chair.”

Bellamy looked up to see one of the chairs in between their rooms fallen over and he burst out laughing. He looked up at her to see one of her eyebrows raised and a slight smirk on her face. “Sorry, it’s just-” he looked back to the chair and burst out laughing again.

With an eye roll, she waved him off, “whatever. Till next time.” The blonde turned to leave, but stopped when he called out for her.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Clarke,” she replied, throwing it over her shoulder.

“Bellamy.”

“Till next time, Bellamy,” she said, before walking over to the chair, picking it up and putting it back into place and then moving into her room, her oxygen tank dragging behind her.

 

The second time he saw her, it was the next day. She was sitting in the small room where people can hang out; she was sitting on a chair, cross legged and reading a book. He moved closer only to realize she was reading his favourite history book. Bellamy tapped her on the shoulder and she lowered the cover. Today, she was wearing a large grey jumper and black sweatpants. On her feet, a different pair of Doctor Who socks. She smirked when she realized who it was.

“Princess,” he dropped down in the chair next to her.

“My name’s Clarke. I told you this earlier,” she replied, with one of her rolls.

“I prefer Princess. Nice book,” he commented, nodding to it lying in her lap.

Her gaze dropped, before looking back up at him. “It’s one of my favourites.”

They started talking about the book, which turned into talking about Bellamy’s sister, which evolved into her asking why he was there. His job, his friends, his family. Everything just poured out. Then the conversation spun round and he was asking all these questions about her. Her name was Clarke Elizabeth Griffin, she was seventeen years old and lived with her mom and dad, she had no siblings. He learnt about her friends, Raven, Monty and Jasper. Discovered that her boyfriend cheated on her last year. She talked about her best friend Wells who was killed in a car crash four years ago and since then she had always felt alone. She told him about her future of studying medicine to help the sick and the injured. 

However, she avoided telling him why she was there and why she needed to take her oxygen tank everywhere she went. Throughout the whole day they spent together, he never asked her once. Even when they lined up to take their pills and noticed she had nearly ten times more than anyone else had to take. He didn’t ask her when the nurse came into the common room to change the oxygen tank and she needed to breathe into a brown bag. It was only when he noticed her hair move in an unusual way that spurred the questions out.

They were sitting on the sofa, her legs outstretched and resting on his. Both were reading, Bellamy looked up and watched as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. But something about its movement made him frown. It looked fake. “I don’t want you to think I’m being rude, but why are you even here?”

Her eyes flickered up and she smirked, placing the book on her lap. “I was wondering when you’d ask.”

“I hope you don’t think I’m being rude, it’s just I saw you come in and it was different to what I’ve seen with other people here. I mean, we’re all here for different reasons.”

She smiled at him, “you’re not being rude. I have cancer. Thyroid cancer, which basically means my lungs suck. They fill with water so I can’t breathe properly, which is why I have Max.”

 

“Max?” Bellamy asked, frowning.

“Max, he’s the oxygen tank.” Bellamy nodded, not sure what to say next, when she spoke first. “That’s new.”

He looked up. “What is?”

“Normally when I tell people I’m dying, they normally apologize. No idea why, but it seems to be the only thing I hear and they look at me differently. But you? You’re not like that.”

“Is that bad or good?”

“Good. I mean, I don’t like being treated like I’m fragile.”

They sat in silence for a moment, before Bellamy spoke up. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I am sorry about your situation. About you dying.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve known I’m dying for years, I’m used to it.”

 

After weeks and weeks of seeing who can run to the vending machine first (Bellamy always won), spending hours upon hours sitting in the common room, he’s finally able to go home.

She’s lying on her bed. Her bare feet pressed up against the fall, her back against the hospital bed sheets. Her eyes flickering over the words of the book she held in the hair. Bellamy knocked on the door and she turned her head, her eyes lighting up when she sees him. Max sat next to her bed. Slowly, she turned and sat up.

“Hey,” she laughed and she scanned him.

Bellamy is wearing normal clothes, his sweatpants and tees folded neatly in his overnight bag which he was holding. “Hey.”

“You’re going home?” 

He nodded, “yeah. I’m all better. I can go now.”

“Will I still see you after? You’ll still visit me.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Oh and one more thing,” he reached into his coat pocket and chucked her a packet of crisps, she caught them. “Thought I owed you one since I’ve always played dirty.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait, are you telling me, you make sure I always caught Max on the chair.” He nodded and suddenly she’s launching at him, crisps forgotten on the floor and she’s punching his arm, laughing. “I will get you, Bellamy Blake.”

“Sure you will. Now, as much I love staying for you to punch me some more, I have to go,” Clarke pulled away and smiles before hugging him tightly. “Bye.”

“Bye.” He kissed the top of her head before they let go of each other, and then he walked away.

 

 

After visiting her every day for a week, Bellamy found out a way to see her during the early mornings. This time when he sees her, her wig has gone and she has a scarf wrapped around her head. She’s sitting next to the vending machine, crying, blood dripping from her knuckles and glass scattered on the floor. It’s three in the morning. Without saying anything, he sat next to her and brought her to his chest. They sat there until the night nurses came to clean her blood up.

The next morning, he doesn’t ask her what happened. Instead, her parents told him. She hasn’t got long left. And he swears it hurts more than getting shot.

It’s been three months since he first saw her being brought into hospital and it’s been two months since he told her he loved her and she said she felt the same way. They were lying in her hospital bed, fingers laced together; he was kissing her neck and whispering against her skin, while she was laughing. Today was one of her good days. He was kissing her mouth when once of the nurses come in; they both lifted their heads up slightly.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Clarke it’s time for your medicine.” Bellamy kissed her on the top of her head, before getting off the bed. 

“I’ll go and get you a Snickers bar while you’re doing that.”

He knew she didn’t like him watching take the tablets that were possibly keeping her alive for a bit longer. He also knew that since the cancer had spread to her spine, she couldn’t get her own Snickers bar without her wheelchair. So, he always got her it when she had to take her medicine.

When he came back, the nurse was gone and he slipped down next to her, handing Clarke the chocolate bar and once again kissing her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Bellamy pulled away to see her eyes closed and tears falling down her cheek, with the pad of his thumb, he wipes them away. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do. I’m sorry I’m dying.”

He wanted to laugh, but he knew she was being serious. “Clarke, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”

She fell asleep in his arms.

 

 

It was a few weeks later and since her apology, she’d met Octavia and Aurora, both who loved Clarke to bits and sometimes visited her whenever Bellamy went to the hospital. Clarke was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling when he slipped into her room. She didn’t even turn to look at him.

“I love you, Bellamy,” she whispered when she felt the bed dip and he slid down next to her.

“I love you, Clarke.”

“May we meet again,” she whispered against his chest and he has no idea why she was saying that

 

It’s eight o’clock in the evening when he woke up. At first he didn’t understand why, but then he looked down to Clarke and he knew. He knew why he had awoken.

 

The next time he sees her, she’s lying peacefully in her open coffin. Dressed in her smartest black dress and her wig hair curled beautifully. Her eyes are closed and her skin pale. Her hands held a photo taken at the hospital, it’s of Abby, Jake, him, Octavia, Aurora, Monty, Jasper and Raven standing by Clarke who is sitting in her bed. Everyone smiling, but it wasn’t reaching their eyes. This was the day everyone found out that she had days, weeks left.

He placed a kiss to her forehead and let a tear run down his cheek. He lied before; this hurt a lot more than being shot. When he was first brought into the hospital, the nurse asked him to rate his pain out of ten. He lifted eight fingers, unable to speak. After he had recovered the same nurse told him that his pain scales must have been screwed because that should have been a lot worse than just a rating of eight, it should have been a ten. But the truth was, he was saving that. And this was it. As he stared down to an unmoving, lifeless Clarke, this was it. This was his ten.

Bellamy let his lips linger on her forehead, the undertaker told him they need to take her to the grave to bury her, but he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave her. 

It was four months since he first saw Clarke Griffin and he can’t believe just how much his life had changed since then. He fell in love with a time-bomb and now he was left to clear the casualties. Now, he had to fix his broken heart. With one final kiss to her check, he pulled away and watched as the undertaker took her. 

“May we meet again,” he whispered into the silence. “May we meet again.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry for the heartbreak i have caused  
> and yes, the thing about the pain rating is inspired by the quote in the fault in our stars  
> i just loved it so much, i wanted to put it in here
> 
> anyway, remember to kudos, comment and bookmark!  
> love, ladyoferudite  
> xoxo


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